Imperfect
by Serpent of Slytherin
Summary: DracoOC Draco encounters a new girl from, of all places, Italy. Read on as Draco discovers the intriguing world of the Muggle version of Lord Voldemort's reign of terror.
1. Chapter One: Enough

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **Yet again, another story! This one came to me, literally, in a dream. I sat and stewed about it for awhile, then sat down to write. Let me just warn you now, I will be incorporating the Italian language into this one, as you shall see. I'll put the translations in parentheses right after the Italian usage, so you won't have to go scrolling around all the time to find out what I'm trying to say. So have fun, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

**Imperfect**

**Chapter One: **Enough

_**Three Weeks Ago. . .**_

Dinner had been interrupted, yet again, but another argument. The meal had started off silent and tense, due to a disagreement between her mother and father about her education and life in general.

You see, Sienna Palmero was no ordinary girl of sixteen. She was the daughter of notorious Italian mob boss, Anthony "Tony" Palmero. And to complicate matters, she was a witch. Her mother had brought the magic into the family, and only told her father a few years ago, when Sienna started to make things "happen." Now, at sixteen, she had several years' schooling, though none magical. Her mother had been giving her private tutorials to trim her magical habits.

The argument that had turned dinner sour had started when Sienna's mother, Amalié, bravely brought about the subject of wanting a better life for Sienna. Tony had big and bright plans for his daughter. Since she wasn't a boy, he couldn't carry out the "master plan" he'd always had about taking over the "family business," but he could do his best. Son instead, he wanted to marry her off to a close associate's son, Angelo Ricardi. He trusted the Ricardis, and knew the family business would be in good hands when he died. The problem in Amalié's eyes was that Angelo Ricardi was almost ten years Sienna's junior. Amalié knew it would essentially be the end of Sienna's life if she married Angelo, and Sienna had too much to give to life to be locked and repressed into the role of a mobster's wife.

"Tony, have you not thought of what Sienna wants? Have you not thought of her feelings? I'm tired of living this way, and Sienna needs a better life. If you would just let her attend school-"

"No!" Tony yelled, slamming his fist into the dinner table and sending silverware flying. "This magic nonsense will do nothing for her! She needs to see how the business works so that one day she can help run it!"

Sienna laid down her fork. "Don't think I'm stupid, Papi. I can hear the disdain and scorn in your voice. Don't think I have no clue how this will turn out. I notice you said 'help' run it. You plan on marrying me to Angelo so he can have full control and I'll be stuck. And that's what you want, isn't it? I'm not allowed to have a life of my own, am I?"

"Life? You talk of a life of your own? What of this life you live now? Answer me that!" Tony roared, his face reddening, a dangerous sign.

"_Non questo é la vita che ho scelta!_ (This is not the life I chose!)" Sienna yelled, her temper and frustration rising.

"This is the life you will accept! There is no other life out there, Sienna! Kill or be killed, die weak or die strong! Power will get you to bigger and better things!"

"Well, maybe I don't want to be powerful! Maybe I don't want bigger and better things! Besides, the moment you step aside, Angelo will take the reins completely and I'll be nothing more than a servant locked in a loveless marriage!" Sienna screamed.

In one swift movement, Tony leaned across the table and backhanded his daughter across the face. Sienna gave a cry of shock and her hands went protectively to her face.

"I will not be spoken to that way! Angelo is a good man, he knows what to do!" Tony yelled, agitated.

"Tony," Amalié began.

"Shut up woman! She doesn't need to be babied, she will not go to school you will cease teaching her those crackpot magic tricks, and she will marry Angelo Ricardi! End of story!"

Sienna looked up from her hands. Her face still stung from the slap, and one glance in the back of her spoon showed a dark red handprint on her cheek.

"No, Papi. This is _not_ the end of the story. I will _not_ marry Angelo, I will _not_ stop my magic, and I _will_ go to school. I don't care if you don't like it or not. This is my life, I will do what I want with it, and if you can't accept that, then disown me. Lasciarme va! (Let me go!)"

"You will marry Angelo if it's the last thing you do. Refuse, and you shall pay dearly," Tony hissed in cold fury, his face now purple with rage.

Silence. Then-

"Fine! That's it! I'm through with this! I'm through with you, Papi! I'm tired of being stuck in a nonexistent life! _L'odio!_ (I hate you!)" Sienna screamed, jumping up from the table and fleeing the room.

She ran from the back of the villa and down the hall, intending to leave the house and her father.

"Sienna, _ritomare qui!_ (Get back here!)" Tony bellowed from the dining room.

"No! I've had enough!" She screamed back.

She threw open the front door and started down the terraced steps, quickly trying to get to the bottom of the steep hill upon which their villa sat.

"Tony, no!" Sienna heard her mother scream.

"I will not put up with those who defy orders!" He bellowed.

BANG.

Sienna was stopped dead in her tracks. She fell to her knees, gasping for air as the warm sensation of blood escaping her body flowed from her upper back. She fell forward and collapsed onto the ground, wounded and helpless. She fell facing the house, and as she tried to get air into her now collapsed lung, she watched her mother dissolve into hysterics and run down the steps to get to her.

"Amalié, no! She chose to defy us!" Tony yelled, waving his 9 mm handgun in the air.

"How could you! Your own daughter! You monster!" Amalié screamed through her tears, continuing down the steps.

Sienna gasped for air, feeling everything sliding away. She heard another BANG and saw her mother fling forward, tumbling down the last ten steps before landing, crumpled and still, at the base of the steps.

"I have no use for traitors!" Tony bellowed one last time before turning and going inside, slamming the door behind him.

Sienna struggled to sit up and get to her mother, but it was no use. Her head hit the ground a final time, and she felt the life slowly drain out of her as she laid helpless and alone under the blood-red sunset.

* * *

Three weeks later, a brunette girl of sixteen stood before a gravestone, looking down upon it quietly. She leaned against a wizened old man with a long white beard a matching hair.

With great difficulty, she knelt down and reached out to touch the gravestone.

"_Che lei ha fatto_, Mama? (What did you do?)" Sienna whispered, her fingers running over the delicate carving of her mother's name.

The old man placed a hand on her shoulder. A tear escaped her turquoise eyes, trailing down her olive complected cheek.

"_Non questo é la vita che ho scelta, Mama._ (This is not the life I chose.) _Sono spaventato._ (I'm scared.)" She whispered to her mother.

"You don't have to be afraid, Sienna. Your father cannot hurt you anymore," the old man said quietly.

Sienna looked up into his kind blue eyes. "_Professore_ (professor, duh) Dumbledore, can you promise me this? Can you promise me that his men won't be able to find me?" Sienna asked, stumbling over the English she spoke.

"No Muggle can get inside the grounds. You're safest with us," Dumbledore said.

"Mama, it's what you dreamed. I'm going to attend school. I'm going to learn magic!" She whispered, still fingering the gravestone.

"Sienna, the sun is setting. It is not safe for you after dark," Dumbledore said gently.

She struggled to push herself up from the warm ground. Dumbledore's hand closed around her upper arm, helping her to her feet.

"_Arrivederci_, Mama. (Good bye.) _L'amo. _(I love you.)" Sienna whispered one last time.

Dumbledore smiled down at the young Italian girl. "Are you ready?"

Sienna nodded, closing her eyes and saying a quick prayer to her mother.

'Wherever I go, whatever I'm doing, you'll always be with me. A mother's sacrifice leaves no greater protection. I'm starting over. _Questo é la vita che scelgo._ (This is the life I choose.) _Ci é nessuno ricordando._ (There is no looking back.)'


	2. Chapter Two: Culture Shock

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **After that first chapter, I decided I would switch over to first person point of view, only because I find it more convenient to find out what's going on internally with each character. And admit it, you like it too. Who wouldn't like to hear all those little Draco-isms and Sienna-isms? Don't worry, it'll get better after this chapter. Trust me, I have a doctorate in Harry Potter. Oh, and the song I use later on in the chappie does not belong to me, I give props to Creed, who helped me through some rough spots, like they did for Sienna.

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Two: **Culture Shock

**Draco's POV**

Ah, yet another year Hogwarts. Sixth years become NEWT students, and we get stuck with a butt load of work.

Not that I'm complaining. At least at school I can get away from my mother and her damn overprotectiveness. And I don't have to worry about Voldemort showing up at my door anymore.

Thank you, Merlin.

I spent all summer with that insufferable woman I'm supposed to call a mother, and I'm about to go crazy. At least Hogwarts offers me some semblance to sanity.

I sat down at Slytherin's table in the Great Hall and let out an audible sigh of relief. I was home, at last.

"Never knew you to be happy about coming back here, mate," my good friend, Blaise Zabini said as he sat down beside me.

"You have no idea what hell that woman put me through, Blaise," I said in a long-suffering voice.

"Huh. Well, at least you didn't have to put up with hordes of horny bastards swarming around the house all summer. I've told Mother to quit taking that damned potion so they quit coming round, but she won't listen to me. It's driving me bloody mad!"

I laughed and took a good look around. Everyone was back and looking well from the holiday, all gossiping happily about vacations and relationships and fashion.

They never change.

"Where do you reckon Dumbledore is?" Blaise asked, nodding towards the High Table.

I looked around. The magnificent chair that usually ensconced Dumbledore was empty.

I shrugged. "Maybe the old fool got lost."

McGonagall came in then, leading a bunch of first years who looked utterly terrified.

I nudged Blaise. "Fresh meat."

He grinned as the first years scuttled past.

Forty minutes and about fifty little buggers later, the Sorting was over, and Dumbledore still had yet to show up. My stomach rumbled loudly.

"Oh, come on, dammit. I'm starved," I muttered as McGonagall motioned for Flitwick to take the Sorting Hat and stool away.

"Now then," McGonagall started, but broke off when the double doors suddenly sprang open.

Dumbledore came striding into the Hall, his arm supporting the hottest piece of. . .I mean, the hottest girl I have ever seen in my life.

Heads turned as Dumbledore and the girl made their way slowly to where McGonagall stood. For a few minutes, both Headmaster and professor stood in whispered conversation, the girl still being supported by Dumbledore.

"Holy hell," I whispered, leaning back in my seat to get a better view of this girl's backside.

"Sweet mother of Merlin," I heard Blaise manage out as he too leaned back in his seat to get a better view.

McGonagall and Dumbledore suddenly broke off their whispered conversation and turned to face the rest of the school. All curious mutterings ceased and the Hall was suddenly silent.

McGonagall placed an arm around the girl as Dumbledore stepped forward to address everyone.

"Welcome back, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts!" He exclaimed, glancing back at the girl.

She gave a tiny smile and attempted to stand straighter before wincing and settling back into her original position.

"Now, before we all become befuddled in our feast, I have just one little announcement."

McGonagall and the girl stepped forward.

"Sienna Palmero will be joining our sixth year class this term. She has already been Sorted into Slytherin and will remain with us for the year. I trust you all will make her feel welcome."

Everyone clapped as Dumbledore turned to speak to McGonagall and this Sienna. She gave a smile and nodded, and allowed McGonagall to escort her to our table.

"Holy hell, mate! We've got her!" Blaise whispered as McGonagall led her to a spot directly across from us.

"You'll be fine now, Miss Palmero. I'm sure your fellow house mates will help you from here," McGonagall said as she looked sternly over her glasses at me and Blaise.

She gave me and Blaise that smiled of hers before looking down at the food that appeared before us. It didn't seem to surprise her, as she gave a grin of satisfaction before grabbing the nearest dish and plunking food down on her plate.

For a few minutes, all Blaise and I could do was look at her stupidly. They definitely didn't make them like that at Hogwarts. Her hair was a deep, dark brown and glittered in the candlelight. She was tan, like permanently tan, and her eyes were bright and the bluest things I had ever seen.

She reached out to take something that was closer to me than her, but her hand had barely passed halfway across the table when she stopped suddenly and let out a cry of what sounded like pain.

Blaise and I came to our senses and looked something like concerned. I pushed the bowl she was trying to reach towards her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She looked at me with those bright eyes. She didn't answer right off, she just looked at me. It was bloody unnerving.

"What happened to you?" I tried again.

She shrugged, which caused her to wince.

"Why are you here?" I wasn't going to give up, dammit.

Something flitted across her eyes, almost like a ghost.

"My. . ._padre. . ._tried to kill me," she said finally.

Whoa, hang on for just one bloody second here! She's _Italian!_

"Where do you come from?" It just came out, honest.

"Italy."

"But why. . .?" Blaise began, confused.

"Have you ever heard of the Italian mob?" She questioned.

Blaise shook his head, but I thought it sounded familiar. . .

"My father was a mobster. He tried to marry me off to someone I despised. I defied him. He tried to kill me."

"But your mother?"

"He killed her when she tried to save me."

Blaise's jaw dropped, and he audibly muttered, "Damn."

"But you're obviously a witch," I stated.

She nodded. "My. . ._madre. . . _she was the witch. My father didn't know anything about magic until I started to do it a few years ago. I didn't know either. Mama kept it a secret."

"And she couldn't have saved herself?"

"My father used his 9 mm against us. There was no way she could have saved herself."

Blaise and I looked confused. "9 mm?"

"A hand gun. You know, pull a trigger, a bullet comes out, it kills people?"

"Oh! Those things!"

Boy do I feel stupid. But she doesn't sound that different from me. We both have idiots for fathers, our mothers aren't there when we need them, and our lives have been disrupted. Well, I can honestly say that I've never been hit with one of those bullet thingers, but hey, there's a first for everything, right?

She was quiet for the rest of dinner, as were Blaise and I. We didn't know what else to say to her, what with the extraordinary announcement that her father had tried to kill her. Neither of us could relate, so we just left her alone. But, damn was she hot. I could only keep my eyes off of her for a few moments at a time.

At long last, dinner was over, and my eyes drooped contentedly as I sat back and allowed my full stomach a break. Dumbledore dismissed us for the evening, and instantly, there was a rumble of hundreds of students making their way to their dormitories.

Sienna stood up slowly, wincing as she did so. She straightened up slowly, testing for pain.

"Where did he, you know, hit you?" I asked her quietly, appearing at her side.

She tapped a spot somewhere just below my right shoulder blade.

"And you survived?"

"I did. But I thought I wouldn't. The bullet punctured my lung, and I was having a hard time breathing. When I was in the hospital, they almost lost me twice. At least, that's what they say," she said with a rueful smile.

"But you didn't die. You're here," I repeated.

She sighed. "I suppose so."

She shuffled forward a few steps, her eyes only betraying the pain she was feeling.

"So where is the S-Slytherin house?" She asked, stumbling over the obviously foreign word.

"You'll see. I hope you like the dark and don't mind moderately small places," I said, offering her my arm.

Surprisingly, she took it, smiling up at me.

My heart instantly did a sort of odd, fluttering somersault. I gulped, trying to ignore the rush of blood that careened around my body.

Bloody hell this was going to be hard. Sharing a house with her is bad enough, but that damn smile of hers is enough to want to drag her into the nearest broom closet! And the way she was dressed didn't help either. She was wearing a denim mini skirt that was frayed and torn at the bottom, and a sexy red tank top that scooped low around her collarbone. Her dark brown hair was curling down past her shoulders, and held in place by a red and white bandana. The skirt showed off a lot of tan leg, and she was very fit. She had the body of a goddess.

"Are the classes hard?" she asked as we walked slowly from the Hall, letting everyone else surge around past us.

I shook my head. "Not if you're smart and know what you're doing. It helps to know how to cheat too," I added with a grin.

She gave me a sideways look, unsure whether to smile or not.

Walking down stairs seemed to be a bit of a challenge for her.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I have not been up walking around for this long since he shot me. I'm not used to stairs. It's the one thing I didn't accomplish in therapy," she apologized, her accent thick.

"It's okay. At least going slower means you take in more of your surroundings, so you don't get lost."

We followed the steady trickle of Slytherins making their way to the common room. We walked through the door and she stopped, looking around in wonder.

"We're in the. . the. . ." she stopped, looking confused as to what the English word was.

"Dungeons?" I supplied.

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! That's the word I was trying to think of."

I laughed. "English isn't that hard once you get used to it."

"Italian is so much easier," she disagreed.

Being the typical guy that I am, I quickly hatched a plan to get closer to her.

"Tell you what. I'll, _ahem,_ tutor you in English if you teach me Italian," I proposed.

She looked confused for a moment, thinking about what I had said.

"Tutor? Oh! Speak English better? I'd like that. I don't like sounding so foreign. You really want to learn Italian?"

I nodded, trying not to let that damn smirk of mine show. "I love the language. It sounds so beautiful."

"Latin," she said simply.

"Derived from Latin, yes. I like the sound of it."

She looked around. "I think I will look around for a while. You do not mind?"

I shook my head. "Girls' dorm is the second door on your right down that hall," I pointed.

She followed my finger and then looked back at me. "Thank you. . .I do not know your name."

I could have smacked myself. You idiot!

"Draco, Draco Malfoy, at your service."

She smiled. "An interesting name. I will see you later, Draco Malfoy."

She walked away slowly, looking all around her, taking in her surroundings.

Instantly, my eyes strayed to her backside as she walked away. Each step. . .I'm drooling. Dammit! Stop it you horny fool!

I looked around and walked away from the obviously pleasing sight to find Blaise. Not all too surprisingly, he already had some chick wrapped around him and they were engaged in an extremely fast paced snog session on one of the couches near the fire.

I shook my head and decided to go into the boys' dorm to put away my stuff. My trunk was set at the foot of my four poster, which looked quite comfortable at the moment. But I wasn't ready to go to bed, I was stupidly hoping that I would at least get a good night out of the Italian. . ._Sienna. . . ._remember her name, you idiot! Just because she's one damn fine looking chick doesn't mean she doesn't have a name. She is not a frickin' possession. That's what she was trying to get away from.

Once my things were packed away, I decided I'd go back out into the common room and 'unwind' for awhile. I was really just hoping for another chance to talk to Sienna.

You are turning to mush, you moron. You never used to do this. You saw a hot girl as a conquest, a mission to attempt to get her in the sack. But now, you see this foreign girl, and the walls are suddenly torn down._ What is the matter with you?_

I walked out into the common room again. I didn't see Blaise anymore, most likely he and the girl he was snogging left to find someplace more secluded. I looked around carefully, hunting for the one I so desired to see. At first, I didn't see her, but a second glance around the room found her sitting in a secluded corner of the common room, at one of the tables. She looked like she was writing something.

I walked over to her almost lazily, giving her the chance to notice me coming and attempt to hide what she was writing. I wasn't that mean to go and intrude on someone's private thoughts.

Or was I? That would be very, very cruel to do. She was new, she had no friends, and her father had tried to bloody murder her. Attempting to read what she had wrote would be very cruel indeed.

Okay, okay! I won't read whatever she wrote. I give up. No reading for me. Absolutely not. I won't let it happen. Geez, I ruin all my fun.

I sat down in the chair next to her. For a few seconds, she simply continued scribbling. But then she finished whatever she was writing and set down her quill. She looked up at me, but didn't close the book she was writing in.

"So what do you think of your new home?" I asked, refusing to look down at the book.

She looked around. "I like it. It is dark, but I like the dark. It is small, but I do not mind small spaces. It brings people closer together, I think."

Was it me, or did I see a shadow of a smirk cross her face when she said that? Damn, I've got competition for the best smirk award here.

"Yeah, I like the dark too. I always have. I'm weird like that."

She cocked her head to the side, studying me. I didn't look away.

"You are not weird. The dark is mysterious, secretive. It holds your secrets, it covers you when you do not want to be seen, it hides what you don't want to show," she said this last quietly, looking straight into my eyes.

I didn't flinch, but it was weird. I was never much on getting deep into my thoughts, and I was never good at expressing what I thought at all. But what Sienna just said, it was chillingly true. She hit it right on the head. The dark was a friend to both of us. It hid our secrets, it hid what we didn't want to show. This was bloody bizarre.

"So, so do you think you'll like it here?" I asked quickly, trying to cover my confusion.

She nodded slowly, her eyes still not leaving my face. "I like it. There is nothing that could be worse than where I came from."

That blue gaze of hers was starting to creep me out slightly. She was the first girl I knew who had no trouble looking straight into my eyes without giggling or acting stupid or being shy. Even Blaise didn't really look me straight in the eye. She wasn't afraid of me, and had no issues with honesty.

Grudgingly, I broke the gaze and looked down at the book she was still holding open. She sensed my shift of eyes, but she didn't snap the book shut or anything. She looked down at it as well.

"What's the book for?"

She studied it thoughtfully. When she looked up at me again, she was smiling.

"_Scrivo la poesia y musica._ (I write poetry and music.)"

I didn't want to look like an idiot after she spoke in Italian. So I tried to figure out what she said. It couldn't be that hard. _Scrivo._ Must be the word for 'write.' _Poesia. _Poetry? _Musica,_ obviously music, as in lyrics. Hmmm, this couldn't be that hard to learn. I could do it.

"You write your own poetry?"

She smiled, happy I understood what she said. "I do."

"Anything in particular?"

She shook her head. "My life, how I feel. Things that make me angry, sad. Happy things, my mother, wishing my father wasn't such a bastard."

It had started out innocently enough, but by the time she quit talking, her voice was full of bitterness and hate. It was scary, seeing her angry. So far, she had seemed even tempered and cheerful, not hateful and bitter.

I reached out a hand without realizing it and placed it on top of hers, which was resting on the table.

"Things will get better. They have to. You're here, aren't you? You've left him. He can't get you."

When she looked up at me again, her eyes were swimming with tears. She shook her head. "You don't understand. This is my father we're talking about! If he wants to find me, he will! It doesn't matter that he's locked up in some Italian prison somewhere in Rome! If he wants to find me, he _will_! He has his people. And. . .and Angelo! He won't let me disappear! Not when the business is on the line! He needs me to get his hands on the business! And when that happens. . ." she trailed off, her tears running down her beautiful face in a stream.

I didn't know what to say. It sounded an awful lot like the Death Eaters. If they wanted you, they'd find you. You couldn't outrun Voldemort, or his men. And if someone had something in for you, you would be found, and they'd get what they want from you.

"Is, is Angelo the man your father tried to marry you to?" I asked quietly.

She nodded, too overcome by her tears to speak properly.

"What did you mean by the business being on the line?"

She looked up finally, her eyes blazing through the tears. The look on her face was scary, it was full of hatred and anger.

"My father did not have the son he wanted. I was a mistake, I was always the mistake. He told me so. He was disappointed that he did not have the boy to carry on the business like he had hoped. Instead, he got a foul mouthed, bitter tempered, defiant girl who had no wish to stay in the business and accept the life she was born into. I refused it from the start. I had no wish to go on and be responsible for innocent people's murders. I was not like that. But he didn't accept that I had no desire for the business at all. He was going to force me to marry Angelo so that Angelo could take over the business once my father had died. He trusted Angelo and his family, and knew that the business would be safe in his hands. He did not trust me. He knew the instant he died that I would disband everyone and disappear from it all forever. Angelo was his safety. I would be locked in a loveless marriage, unable to do as I pleased, more or less a slave. And my father would be happy. It was all apart of the 'master plan,' as he called it. Marry me off so that I can be locked away, safe from myself, and the business would continue on forever more."

She stared up at me with the same blazing look in her eyes, the tears gone. "I had nothing to lose. Running away was my only option. And it got me out in the end."

"At the cost of your mother's life," I said quietly, reading the devastated look in her eyes.

She nodded, looking down at her book, studying it thoughtfully.

"There is a song, that I copied down at one time in here, from a group that somehow wrote stuff that fit my life perfectly," she said after awhile. She looked up at me. "Would you like to see?"

I nodded.

She flipped back through the pages of her book, looking for the right one. When she found it, she turned it around and held it out to me.

I took it and began reading.

_A court is in session, a verdict is in_

_No appeal on the docket today_

_Just my own sin_

_The walls are cold and pale_

_The cage made of steel_

_Screams fill the room _

_Alone I drop and kneel_

_Silence now the sound_

_My breath the only motion around_

_Demons cluttering around_

_My face showing no emotion_

_Shackled by my sentence_

_Expecting no return_

_Here there is no penance_

_My skin begins to burn_

_So I held my head up high_

_Hiding hate that burns inside_

_Which only fuels their selfish pride_

_We're all held captive out from the sun_

_A sun that shines on only some_

_We the meek are all in one_

_I hear thunder in the distance_

_See a vision of a cross_

_I feel the pain that was given_

_On a sad day of loss_

_A lion roars in the darkness_

_Only he holds the key_

_A light to free me from my burden_

_And grant me life eternally_

_Should have been dead _

_On a Sunday morning_

_Banging my head_

_No time for mourning_

_Ain't got no time_

_So I held my head up high_

_Hiding hate that burns inside_

_Which only fuels their selfish pride_

_We're all held captive_

_Out from the sun_

_A sun that shines on only some_

_We the meek are all in one_

_I cry out to God_

_Seeking only his decision_

_Gabriel stands and confirms_

_I've created my own prison_

I looked up at her. She was watching me read it. She smiled when she saw the expression on my face.

"It is rather harsh, but it is. . ._was. . ._true. I was locked in my own prison. But I held my head up high and hid the hate that threatened to consume me, up until the end. And the sun only shone on Angelo and my father. It just hit home, when I first heard the song."

"Who is it by?"

"Some band from the States. You wouldn't know them, they are not of the Wizarding kind."

I handed the book back to her. "I like it. And you write your own stuff too?"

She nodded, smiling.

"What don't you do?"

She shrugged. "I dance, it was one of the few things my father allowed me to enjoy."

My eyebrow rose. "You dance? Really? What kind of dancing?"

Again, she shrugged. "Everything. My father wanted a cultured _mafioso_ for a daughter. After all, what good would I be if I couldn't at least pretend to be all sweet and innocent while being married to one of the biggest men in the game?"

I laughed. She did too.

"Do you dance, Draco Malfoy?"

I smirked. "You, my dear Sienna, are looking at one of the best there is at this school. My father insisted on taking lessons as well. I had to have something to prove for, after all, the world isn't all about killing and deceit. I had to have something to show for all the money."

She nodded knowingly. "Another spoiled child too, I see."

"Too right. But I don't want anything to do with it anymore. I'm through with his tyranny and my mother's foolishness. I've vowed to become a free man."

She reached out and patted my hand. "Good for you."

We sat in silence for awhile. Eventually, she opened her book back up to the page she was writing on and picked up her quill again. By that time, most everyone had gone to bed. I caught Blaise sneaking back into the common room with the girl he had been with, all giggling and acting stupid. He gave me a goofy grin and bade the girl good night before continuing into our dorm.

Not long after Blaise disappeared, Sienna closed her book with a snap and carefully wiped her quill off.

"I think I will go to bed now. Thank you for listening to me tonight, Draco." She said softly as she stood up, stretching.

I stood as well, refusing to let my eyes wander off her face. "It wasn't a big deal. I'm here if you want to talk."

She smiled gratefully and stood on her tiptoes. Quick as a wink, she gave me a peck on the cheek and walked away down the short hallway to the girls' dorm.

I stared after her. _A custom in Italy. It has to be. No girl in her right mind would be kissing a stranger on the cheek._

I wanted to believe it was something more, but I couldn't. This was going to take time. She had no one else to trust. And I was just the person to earn it. I knew I was.

And nothing was bloody well going to stop me.


	3. Chapter Three: The Other Side of Sienna

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Three: **The _Other_ Side of Sienna

**Sienna's POV**

I crawled into my bed after leaving the common room, as that Draco called it, my head spinning with new and wonderful thoughts. I was free, I was away from the madness, and most importantly, I had the right to choose my life now.

I sighed in happiness as I burrowed under my warm blankets and bunched my pillow up under my head. The castle was simply marvelous from what I had seen. The food was divine, much better than the stuff the cooks made back in Italy. And as I had said earlier, I loved the common room for its dark and enclosed space. I didn't trust wide open areas any longer, as it had so betrayed me the last time I fled to an open space, fearing the confines of a life that threatened to engulf me.

This Draco character, he was certainly something. He and his friend, whose name I did not catch, could not tear their eyes away from me all through dinner. It didn't surprise me, as I had been all too used to the staring for too long. My father used to drag me to all the high society balls and galas back in Italy, and force me to dance with all the boys who had asked for my hand. And when I say boys, I mean boys. They were childish, horny, and incapable of dancing properly. All they did was ogle at either my face or my chest.

And it drove me mad.

Of course, it did me no good to complain about it to my father. Why should he give a damn about that? They didn't matter, it was only Angelo that mattered. I should have seen it coming, especially when he was about the only one Father would let me dance with at the balls and parties we had been to within the past year. But of course, Angelo was the proper gentleman that he knew how to be when under the scrutiny of Father's eye. He knew how to behave and what to say to smooth over a situation. My father thought he was a perfect angel. Hence his name.

But what Father didn't know was that Angelo was far from his angel stature, as his name suggested. He was a conniving, sick, twisted, manipulative man. And much like those foolish boys I was forced to dance with, he too thought only with his pants. After one particular incident, where I more or less was forced to wrestle him off me, he left me with a particularly large and dark hickey on my neck. Needless to say, when I realized it was there, I gave him a black eye. He wasn't very happy.

But I couldn't tell Father this. He'd never believe me. He wouldn't believe it. Angelo was his precious business's means of survival. Without him, the _perfect_ son-in-law, the business would die along with him, and as I couldn't be trusted to carry it on, he needed the strong manly man that Angelo was to take over.

I had showed Mama what Angelo did to me. I saw the look in her eyes as she showed me the proper charm to conceal it, as that was the only thing that would cover up the damn thing, that's how powerful a bite Angelo had. Make up did no good. But it was the look in Mama's eyes that turned me on to how dangerous a life I was about to enter into. If this is what Angelo did to me now, what wouldn't he be capable of once we were, _ahem,_ happily married?

I sighed again, shaking my head. It did me no good to dwell in the past. The pain from Mama's death was still to fresh in my mind to continue this train of thought. My heart ached with the powerful sense of loss.

I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the top of my four poster. All around me, the girls in my year were falling asleep, their snores and deep breathing filling the room. I again turned my thoughts to this Draco boy who I had befriended. At least, I think I befriended him. Can I befriend him if he thinks he befriended me first?

I smacked myself on the forehead. Obviously it's been a long day. You go from Italy and a warm, humid climate, where you were kneeling in front of your mother's grave for a freaking hour to a cold, damp, England where you get to learn magic inside a castle. Can someone tell me if that's natural?

So, Draco. Hmmmm. Very nice, talkative, but not horribly so. He seemed genuinely interested in me, which was a first when it came to dealing with boys. But he wasn't so much a boy as a young man. He certainly didn't look like a boy. He was tall, taller than me, which is saying something, considering I'm like a freakishly abnormal tall Italian person. He was blonde, his hair pale and shaggy in the candle and firelight. His eyes were blue, but nothing like mine. His were like ice chips, light and cold. But that was when he looked at other people. I could notice a definite change in them when he looked at me. He was so much different from the Italian boys. They could drool and ogle and whistle as I walked past all they wanted, but it would get them nothing. Draco, however, he could stare, but he also knew how to snap out of it and carry on an intelligible conversation, and what more, he was actually interested to hear what I had to say.

If I could have found something like that in Italy, I would have thrown myself into the nearest waterway and allowed myself to get run over by a rampant gondola. The shock would have drove me to do something that insane, yes.

There was one thing about Italian boys: they were all abnormally good looking and, on occasion, too damn sexy for their own good, but they knew essentially nothing. English boys, on the other hand, from what I have seen, can occasionally be good looking, with that rare, bloody jump-able one thrown into the mix, and they know how to behave themselves and be interested in the aforementioned subject.

Am I making sense?

There's a good chance that I'm not. Ah, well. I'm tired. A good night's sleep, possibly punctuated by Draco and his brilliant face and charm, and I'll be back on my feet in no time.

I hope.

I won't go into specifics about the first week at school, other than it was more exciting and more grueling than anything I had ever imagined. I had thought that I would be completely stupid in each and every one of my new classes, but remarkably, I was not. It turns out that Mama had taught me a good deal more than any of the other people in my classes. I was shocked, needless to say.

As tired as I was at the end of each day of classes, I still found time to explore the castle, which was becoming more and more like home to me with each passing day. Sometimes I went out on my own to explore, while other times, Draco accompanied me and kept me company, pointing out certain things in the corridors to help me remember where I was at all times.

With my classes keeping me occupied, and the endless exploring I was undertaking, it seemed to me like I should be happy and content. But I wasn't. Even with all the homework the teachers were piling on us, and the continuous help I had from Draco on finding the equivalent English word for what I was thinking in Italian, I was bored out of my mind and eager to find something to do.

So, when Draco approached me Friday evening with a scroll of parchment in his hands, I was hoping it was something to liven up my life a little more.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to give this to you," he said, smiling as he sat down beside me at the table in the Great Hall and handed me the scroll.

I took it and read it quickly before standing up. "He wishes to see me right away. I will see you later, Draco."

He gave me another quick smile as I walked away. But not before returning the smile.

Okay. Test time. Where the hell is the _professore's_ office? I looked around once I had ascended the stairs to the first floor. Hmmmm. I can do this.

I let my feet decide where to take me. Somehow, on some miraculous guesswork, I ended up in front of the stone gargoyle Draco had pointed out a few days ago as the guard of the _professore's _office.

I looked back down at the parchment in my hand and read the password again.

"Sugar quill," I said confidently, hoping it would understand what I said through my miserable Italian accent.

It did. It sprang aside and I stepped onto the moving stairs and allowed them to carry me upward. I stepped off outside the handsome oaken door to Dumbledore's office and knocked, waiting for permission to enter.

"Come in."

I walked in quietly and shut the door behind me.

"Ah, yes, Miss Palmero. Please, take a seat."

I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You wished to speak to me, _professore_?"

The old man smiled at me, apparently amused that I mixed my Italian with English. "I did. Tell me, how do you like the castle?"

"It is wonderful. It feels more like home than Italy ever did. I spent so much time dreading my home life that it feels like a relief and an enormous weight off my shoulders to not have to worry about anything more important than homework."

He smiled again. "So you are finding your classes worthwhile?"

"I am. It was a surprise to find that I am not completely behind everyone else. Quite the contrary, I feel that sometimes I am ahead of them in certain areas."

He inclined his head. "So I have heard from Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. I believe, from what I had heard from Professor Flitwick, that you have shown him several clever little charms that your mother showed you?"

I nodded, remembering the memorable Charms class two days ago in which I shocked tiny little Professor Flitwick with a handy little charm in which was supposed to produce a white hot orb of light that would only disappear when the complex counter charm was muttered. It was portable, waterproof, and safe to touch, despite it's fireball appearance. Apparently, they didn't make charms like that in England. Huh, who would have thought? Damn the Italians.

"I believe the _professore_ was shocked. He was most impressed, I think. But sir, I have a question for you now."

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at me. "Go ahead. Ask away."

"Is there a place around here, a place where I could go, by myself, and not have anyone in. . .in, well, walk in on me so I may continue my hobbies?"

I felt incredibly foolish for not being able to think of the right word I was looking for. Draco's going to have to step up those tutoring lessons.

"Hobbies as in?"

"I dance, sir. All the time. Well, I did. Before the. . .accident. And I would like to get back into practice. I miss it. And I was wondering if there would be someway as to be able to play my music. Since it is apparent, from what Draco has told me, that ordinary world devices do not work here?"

I expected Dumbledore to shake his head and say there was no such place and to suggest joining a club or something, but to my very great surprise, he did not.

"There is a room on the seventh floor known as the Room of Requirement. The door is concealed behind a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. All you have to do is thinking very clearly of what it is that you wish the room to contain, and walk past the tapestry three times, keeping what you want in mind. After walking past it three times, the door should appear and you shall be able to enter it and lock the door, should you so choose."

I digested this quickly, intending to find this very tapestry as soon as I left. I glanced down at my watch to see what time it was. Curfew was still a few hours away, so I could easily get some practice in. Besides dancing, I wanted to get some voice time in as well. Besides dancing, my mama was giving me voice lessons as well.

"Thank you sir. I shall go now," I said, standing up.

Dumbledore stood as well. "Thank you for seeing me, Miss Palmero. And remember, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to visit me."

"I won't sir. Thank you."

I quickly left his office and found the stairs down to the next floor. This was going to be grand. I had a place to practice again!

I all but ran down to the dungeons, hellbent on digging my salsa shoes out of my trunk. I had every intention of practicing all that I knew, so I could get back into shape again and get my feet back into remembering what I had learned.

I flashed past Draco, who was sitting in one of the armchairs near the fire, and alarmed him.

"Where's the fire?" he called after my retreating back.

I threw myself down on the floor beside my trunk and commenced to pitching everything that was in there on the floor.

"Come on, come on, where are you, you stupid shoes?"

After a few more seconds of frantic digging, my eyes alighted on the accursed shoes, which were hiding in a dark corner at the bottom of my trunk.

I threw everything unceremoniously back into the trunk, knowing full well that I would have to reorganize it later. Oh well, damn organization. I never liked it anyways.

"Sienna! What the hell's going on!" Draco called again as I flashed past him once more on the way out of the common room.

"I've been told of this room on the seventh floor. I can't explain now! I'll be back in a little while! There's something I want to do!"

"But what's with the shoes?"

I only waved my hand back at him as I ran down the corridor and up the stairs again.

Seven flights of stairs later, I was clutching the stitch in my side and wishing I hadn't ran the whole way. My recently healed lung was protesting something terrible, and that damn stitch felt like it was about to split me wide open.

I need to remember to ask Dumbledore if there's some sort of cure for this stuff the next time I see him. Now, where's that damn tapestry he was talking about?

I found it and paced back and forth, thinking hard on a dance studio for me to practice in. Three passes later, I opened my eyes to find myself facing a plain oaken door in the wall. I seized the doorknob and yanked it open before walking inside.

My eyes widened in delight as I looked around. As I had hoped it would, the room gave me a stereo that somehow worked on its own accord and still played cds. There were mirrors covering every inch of the wall to my right of the door. On the opposite wall was a _barre_ to practice ballet at. In the corner next to the table where the stereo was stood a wardrobe. When I yanked it open, I found every sort of dance costume imaginable, as well as some practice clothes.

I wasted no time at all in ripping off the jeans I had on as well as my sweater and swapped them for a dance skirt and tank. I flung myself down on the floor to slip my dancing heels on. They still fit like an old glove. They had been molded into the shape of my foot after so many years of wearing them and dancing in them. I still remember the first performance I gave in them. Mama's face shone the whole time I was up there. . .

But it does me no good to remember the past. I quickly shook my head and dragged myself up off the floor and focused my attention on the stereo to get some music flowing.

I danced my heart out. It felt so good to be up and moving around, doing the old routines and practicing some stuff that I had recently started working on before everything happened. I even grew brave enough to attempt some stuff I had only seen done, I had never practiced or even attempted to do the moves before.

This one move had me stumped. No matter how hard I practiced, I could _not_ get it right. It was a complicated sort of step, one where I had to remain on the very tips of my toes and sort of mince the steps out. How did it go? Okay, count it out, one, two, step. . .three, four, quick side step to right, on your toes, dammit! Step to the left, sashay to front, quick step back, don't forget to slightly twist as you step. . .

This would be so much easier if I had someone to dance with, dammit.

I kept at it, trying again and again to get the dance step out just right. But after nearly face planting for the fifth time in a row, I was ready to call it quits.

I sighed deeply and gave an impatient sort of growl.

"You are not giving up. You are going to work your ass off until you get this step down, dammit. Now, one, two, back step. . .three, four, quick right step. . .five, six, step to the left. . .twist your feet, sashay to the front and spin. . ."

But in my haste to get it right, my feet crossed and I stumbled. But before I could fall all the way, I felt a pair of hands fasten themselves to my waist and straighten me right back up. Without missing a beat, the hands started to guide me through the steps.

"One, two, back step. . .three, four, quick right step. . .easy now, just slow down, you don't have anything to prove. . .five, six, step to the left, sashay to the front. . .and now we spin. . ."

The right hand latched onto mine and quickly spun me out. Draco's face was set in a look of total concentration, watching my every move, helping me to get it right. He quickly spun me back in and again placed his hands on my waist, guiding me through the steps.

After almost an hour of working on it, we both gave up. I plopped down right in the middle of the room, my legs aching and my feet yelling horrible curses at me for abusing them like I did.

Draco gave a wave of his wand and the music changed to something more relaxing and slow, much different from the fast paced, Latin beat we were just dancing to.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked me, lording over me.

"I'm done, no more."

"The hell you are," he said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet again. "I want to see what you can do with the slow stuff."

"But I don't do well with waltzes," I complained as he took up my right hand again.

"Bullshit, if you can dance that Latin stuff as well as you just did, then you can damn well do something as easy as this."

"But that wasn't good," I started to protest, but he placed a couple fingers over my lips to silence me.

"You can do it. Believe me, I can feel it."

His hand left my lips and went to my waist. I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"No looking at your feet," he commanded, tilting my chin up so I was looking him straight in the eye.

As we began to move, Draco softly counted out our steps. The way he moved so gracefully and confidently made me begin to feel more confident. My eyes never left his. I didn't feel the urge to look down at my feet so often. I began to relax and not be so stiff in my movements. With Draco guiding me, it was like I already knew the steps, and I didn't feel like I was going to fall on my ass anymore.

When the music stopped, I found myself wishing it would go on forever. Draco knew how to dance, but he was also a patient teacher. I didn't feel like a damn show dog being put through the paces when I danced with him, which is how I usually felt when I was dancing with Angelo.

"I told you that you could do it," Draco said as he flopped down next to me on the floor.

"I never knew I could. I've tried before to dance the waltz, but it never worked. Just like the dancing we were doing to the Latin music, I had never done those moves before. I could not do them until you showed up. I'm very grateful," I said softly.

"You're the only girl I know who can dance like you just did. Even in the lessons I took, nobody I danced with was as graceful as you were. I think we've got something here."

I smiled as I yanked off my dancing shoes. My feet were now crying in mercy. I pulled out the hair elastic I had to pull my hair off my neck and shook it all down around my face.

"How did it feel to dance again?" he asked, trying too hard not to notice me shaking my hair down.

I shrugged and stretched a little to test how sore my back was. A quick stab of pain, and then nothing.

"It felt good. I only hurt if I overextend myself. And I try not to. I know my limits."

He smiled at me. "Your English is getting better already. Have you noticed?"

I shook my head. "I just go with it. I don't notice anything. I try not to use so much Italian anymore. But I know I won't ever be able to get away from it. I'm surprised Angelo hasn't found me yet and dragged me away back to the life I thought I escaped," I said with a sigh.

"He's a Muggle, though, right?"

"A. . .a what?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, you wouldn't know that word. A Muggle is a normal person, you know, no magic?"

"Oh! Yes, Angelo is a. . .a Muggle."

A hand went to my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Then he can't find you. He wouldn't be able to see the castle like we do. He doesn't have magic, so he can't see it."

I bowed my head. "He'll find me, believe me, one way or the other, he will, and when he does, may God have mercy on us all."


	4. Chapter Four: Angelo's Anger

**Disclaimer:** All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **Just so's you all know, the poem in this new chappie is my original creation. Mine, that's right. All mine, nobody else's. Steal it and die.

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Four: **Angelo's Anger

**Sienna's POV**

Now that I had something to look forward to in the evenings, my days and weeks seemed to flash by. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, it was already November, and with it came bitter cold weather and freezing rain buffeted against the castle walls by fierce winds.

Every night after dinner, if there wasn't too much homework to get done, Draco and I would trek up to the seventh floor to the Room of Requirement to dance. I was getting so much better; no longer was I clumsy and sluggish in my movements, and as Draco told me, I was loosening up and letting the music tell me what to do.

"Yes! That's it! Just let the music guide it, Sienna!"

The salsa music flowed around me as I stepped into a quick spin on my toes, thanks to the ballet flats I had taken to wearing for the trickier steps.

Draco spun me back in and held me close. He was teaching me the 'dirtier' side to Latin music, and I must say, I had no intentions of complaining about it. I won't go into detail, but let's just say some of the steps required for the dancing had us _very _close together, and oftentimes, his hands would have to, _ahem, _roam around a bit and often put us into very intimate positions.

And I liked it.

My father would most definitely have a reason to kill me and Draco if he ever saw what was going on. Angelo would break Draco's legs off if he saw him as close as he was to me.

With a snap of his fingers, the music slowed way down to a quiet and peaceful waltz.

I groaned. "Not again."

"You're getting better at it. No complaining, missy, or I'll have you doing ballet for the rest of the night."

I laughed as my hand went to his shoulder while he took the other in his own. "I'm terribly frightened. Ballet was my best at one time. You'd be doing me no punishment."

He growled impatiently. "Now you tell me. And here I thought I was giving you a workout."

I shook my head. "I'm afraid not. But I wasn't about to say anything about it. I thought I would just lead you on."

He gave me a look but made no comment. He began leading me around the room, not forcefully, as it used to be, but merely guiding me. My feet knew the steps, it was rather an unwillingness to cooperate that oftentimes made me screw up.

Once the song had ended, and the last note of the violins had faded away, I came up with an idea. I was pretty sure he had never danced hip hop or anything remotely close to it, and as I had taken a liking to making up my own moves, I figured I'd have a little fun with him.

With a snap of my fingers, the music came to life again, this time with a hard, alternating beat that I could easily come up with moves to. Draco had collapsed on the floor, but when the first beat struck, his head raised in alarm.

"Sienna? What the hell. . .?" he trailed off.

I gave him a saucy grin. "This is what we call hip hop."

And with no reflection on my morals or inhibitions, I proceeded to dance my ass off. Literally. My father would have been ready to send me off to the nearest convent if he saw this. He would scream and yell and rant about how I was throwing my life down the drain.

As if, Father.

I caught sight of Draco's face once or twice as I twisted, spun, pranced and otherwise gyrated around the room. At first, he wore a look of utter shock. But as I got more. . ._inventive _with my moves, the look changed. He definitely was not complaining.

When the last beat faded, I collapsed on the floor. My legs no longer felt capable of supporting my weight, and I was totally and completely exhausted after dancing for almost three hours.

The floor felt cool on my sweating back and I yanked my hair out from under my neck. I laid there with my eyes closed for a few minutes, letting my breathing return to normal.

"That. . .that was. . .something else. What the hell was that?"

I opened my eyes. Draco was stretched out next to me, on his side, his arm propping his head up. He wore a coy grin.

"That, my dearest Draco, was a little something I like to call hip hop dancing."

He cast me a blank look.

"Or, consider it the very much modern day version of dirty dancing."

"Oh. Wow."

I laughed. "Never seen anything like it before?"

He shook his head.

I snapped my arm forward and pushed his hand out from under his head. "I will teach you sometime. But not now. I'm dead."

His head hit the floor with a dull thud. "Ow! The hell was that for!"

I shrugged. "Sometimes, you men need to be whipped into shape. I could tell by the looks on your face that you had no issues with me dancing like that, but believe me, it's more than just ogling at the girl's assets when dancing. It needs respect and discipline. And you, sir, you shall have some learning to do."

He pouted. "I don't want to learn. I can do that stuff that you were doing. It didn't look hard."

I grinned again. "Oh really? Then let's see you pull this one off."

I jumped to my feet, ignoring the throb in my feet as I pulled off a complex spin, then dropped to the floor and proceeded to spin the weight of my body around off the floor while supporting myself on my hands. When I had spun three complete rotations, I plopped down on my butt and faced him expectantly.

He gave me a disgruntled look. "I was talking about the other stuff. I can't spin around on my hands like that. No fair, woman."

I crawled forward on my hands and knees till I was a mere three inches away from his face.

"Never," I breathed, "call me 'woman' again, or I shall have to castrate you."

He got my drift. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good!" I said, all joyful again. "I'm tired. Let's go back to the common room."

"Are all women schizophrenic like you?" he asked as we threw our robes back on over our dancing clothes.

I cast him a withering look. "Thanks, I appreciate it. What did you expect from a Mafia princess?"

He shrugged. "I would have thought they would only be spoiled rotten."

"With great power comes great attitude. And I'm Italian. Throw that in with my mother's half Spanish heritage, and you have one hell of a combination."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that what they call it? One being half Italian and half Spanish makes it all right for you to be a bitch when you want to be?"

"I suppose so. But how was I being a bitch?"

He sighed. "Never mind. I'll just shut up now. I can't win with you anyways."

I patted him on the head. "Good boy. You're catching on."

We walked down to the dungeons and through the labyrinthine passageways, shivering as we went. When we reached the entrance to the common room, both of us couldn't get in there faster. We hurried over to the fire and sank down into the ever common sofa, the best seat in the house.

"I'm spent," he muttered.

"Agreed," I said as I pulled my legs up underneath me in an attempt to warm them.

We sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet that the room had to offer after almost three hours of intense music 'therapy.' Most everyone had gone to bed already, and as I mused over it, the clock on the mantel struck eleven.

"Hey," Draco suddenly said.

"Hay is for horses. What?"

"Have you been writing any more of your own stuff lately?"

I thought for a moment. I couldn't remember the last time I had picked up my pen and book and written anything.

"Anything new? Not really. But I have old stuff. If you want to see."

"You don't mind?"

"No."

He nodded eagerly. "You're very good at writing poetry. Or, or. . ._poesia."_

I smiled at his pitiful attempt at Italian. "You're getting better at remembering random words in Italian. I'm proud."

I waved my wand around. "_Accio _poetry book!"

I stretched a hand up over my head and yawned as I waited for the book to come zooming into my hand. With a heavy thud, flesh and book connected. Shaking my hand out, I dropped the book into my lap and commenced to flipping through the pages for something I didn't mind showing Draco.

"Here," I said suddenly, my eyes alighting on one poem.

I thrust the book at him, and the next few moments were silent as he read it.

_Talk_

_it used to come so easy_

_But now, you won't look at me_

_Can't speak_

_Or don't want to_

_We had so much in common_

_or so I thought_

_We got along so easily_

_Now, you see me, you go the other way_

_I considered you a friend_

_Now I can't think of you as anything._

_Why do you and the others act this way?_

_You walk off when I'm in the middle_

_of a question_

_My friend sees the pain in my eyes_

_The hurt_

_It's too much._

_I would have given you my heart and soul_

_I would have willingly fallen in love for you_

_But I suppose it was not meant to be_

_Hurt _

_Confused_

_in a daze_

_When did this change come?_

_Would it ever happen, years on down_

_the road?_

_No one can say for sure, only_

_heartbreak and tears are for certain_

_I have given up on you, love_

_Realization that you won't give me_

_attention_

_I fade quietly into the shadows_

_You won't see me again_

Draco looked up at me as he handed the book back. "What brought this one to the paper?"

I sighed, regretting showing him one that would force me to dig up old memories.

"There was a boy. A few years back. His name was Diego. He was one of the nicest guys that I knew. Or rather, that I thought I knew."

He knew there was more. "Go on."

"He paid me all sorts of attention, and I was flattered. He wasn't someone my father forced me to have a somewhat stilted and awkward relationship with. I thought there might have actually been something there."

He nodded.

"But then, one day, he started acting really weird. Like, he'd see me coming down the street in the city when I was actually allowed out with my friends, and he'd either ignore me completely, or he'd take a detour and go a different way, just so I couldn't speak to him. And it hurt. And when Father gave me the once in a lifetime chance to ask someone my age to accompany me to one of the social balls that I was forced to attend, I decided to ask him, despite his bizarre behavior. But I never even got the question out of my mouth. He saw one of his friends, and seized the opportunity and walked off as I was trying to ask him, not so much as a good bye or anything of the sort was said. And I really liked this guy. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on right there in front of my eyes."

I looked down sadly at the poem that I had written to get out my hurt, confusion and anger. "This was the best way I knew how to get it all out. Aside from telling my mother what happened."

His hand went to my shoulder. "You miss her, don't you?"

I gave a sniff and realized tears had welled up in my eyes. "I do. Every day. It's like a constant ache."

"You know what you should do?"

I shook my head, wiping the tears away.

"Write something for her."

"Maybe one day I will. When it doesn't hurt so much. But I think, for now, I'm just going to go to bed. Good night, Draco."

I got up and trudged down the hall to my dorm. Without even changing out of my dancing clothes, I threw the book in my bedside table and collapsed onto the bed. I was asleep before I knew it.

I woke up in an optimistic frame of mind. I had a great feeling about the day, like nothing was going to go wrong, and I would do well on all of my assignments in class. Nothing was going to go wrong that day, I just knew it.

I met up with Draco in the common room, where he had been sitting reading a book in an armchair.

"Good morning," I greeted him.

He smiled up at me and tossed his book aside. "It's a good morning now that you're here. Feeling better from last night?"

"Much. I don't like bringing back old memories if I don't have to."

"I understand. Next time I ask, smack me."

I grinned. "With pleasure. Now come on, I'm starving."

We walked up to the Great Hall, chatting about nothing in particular. I was starting to feel that I could trust him. And that was an incredible statement, seeing's how I thought I could never trust another guy after Angelo.

We sat down and began eating, occasionally talking in between mouthfuls with Draco's friend, Blaise. I was almost finished with my pancakes when Professor Dumbledore came up behind me, something that was normally not done.

"Good morning, Miss Palmero. How have you been?"

"I've been fine, Professor. What can I do for you?"

He held out an envelope. "I have been seeing to it that any mail that arrives at your villa in Italy has been brought to my attention so that you may receive it in turn. Have a nice day."

I looked down at it, feeling a lump grow in my stomach. Why, all of a sudden, almost three months after leaving Italy, am I getting mail?

I flipped over the envelope to stare at the name. It was addressed to me, all right. And there was something painfully familiar about the handwriting.

I slit the envelope open as Draco looked on. I pulled out a piece of paper with shaking hands. Slowly, I unfolded it, and looked at the name at the end.

With a great shriek, I toppled off my seat backwards, quite a feat, considering I was sharing a bench with Draco.

With a thud, I landed on the floor. Draco looked backwards in alarm at me. I winced.

"I'm okay," I called, climbing up off the stone floor and back onto my chair.

I turned my attention back to the letter. What did _he_ want?

When I finished reading, I threw it back down on the table.

"Stupid asshole," I muttered.

"Sienna, are you okay? Who is it from?" Draco asked.

I gave a disgusted snarl and shoved the letter in his hands. At least Angelo was smart enough to write in English, when his brain actually functioned, instead of his usual thinking with his pants.

_Sienna-_

_I don't know what the hell you are playing at, but so help me God, woman, when I get my hands on you, you're going to wish that your father **did** kill you._

_What do you think you're doing, hiding out from everyone? You know it won't work. We will find you, and when we do, everything is going to go down the way it was supposed to in the first place._

_Your father's going crazy in prison. He's been sentenced, and from what it sounds like, he's going to be in there until he dies. But it doesn't matter. He's already told me to go ahead with everything. I am to take over, but not until I have you as my wife. And I **will** have you, Sienna, believe me, I will. I don't care what kind of life you had envisioned for yourself, it's over. You will be much better off with me, and you will be safe from making any kind of stupid decision that could harm the business. And don't even think of trying to turn us in, because we will find out, and when that happens, we will kill you, no questions asked. Your father's already given me permission. And I'll do it myself. Don't think I won't. I only need you to get the business. I have no issues with killing you. What do you think I do for a living?_

_There is no going back. There is no going forward. At least, not for me. Your mother's dead. There's no one left to protect you. Give it up, Sienna, before we find you, and believe me when I say that if one of the other guys finds you, and not me, they aren't going to be so nice to you as I would. Come out, come out, wherever you are, little Sienna. It's time to play with the big league. No more hiding in the shadows, you'll only die faster. Better to join me and live than to let one of the others find you first. I'm giving you the choice. Choose me, you live. Choose to stay in hiding, you die and join your dear mother in hell. It's your choice. Choose wisely now. Don't make me choose for you._

_Don't make me regret this, Sienna._

_Angelo_

With a sudden movement, Draco crumpled up the letter and took out his wand. With a tap, the paper burst into flames and curled into nothing but burnt ash.

"It's not going to happen. He can't get you here. He can't! I already told you that. You're safe as long as you stay here, and don't go out alone. Trust me, nothing bad will happen to you. I won't let anything happen."

Blaise was looking extremely confused. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what the bloody hell did I miss here?"

I sighed and turned to face him. "The guy my father was trying to force me to marry has somehow figured out that I'm getting my mail, and he's written to tell me that if I don't come out of hiding and quit playing games with them, they will kill me, and Angelo himself will do it. He's all pissed off because my father's told him that he can only have the business now if I marry Angelo, and there's no way in hell that I'm marrying him, because the guy's a murderous prick who gets off on killing people and screwing any woman that crosses his damn path. He's already tried to have his way with me, but it didn't work. I gave him a goddamn black eye, and I'm not afraid to do it again. But this time, I don't think it will work, because if I don't say that I'll marry the bastard as soon as he finds me, he's gonna off me without a second thought. See what a lovely life I live?"

He was still trying to make sense of it all. All he could manage out was, "Damn, Sienna, that sucks big ones."

I grimaced. "Don't I know it."

I looked up at Dumbledore, who had returned to the staff table. He was watching me closely. Apparently, he already knew what the letter said. He gave me a reassuring smile, as if to say that I was indeed safer here than anywhere else.

I nodded to him and turned back to my now cold pancakes.

"Life sucks ass."

"It does, but occasionally, it decides to give you a break and allow it only to suck a little bit less." Draco said, emptying his hands of the ash on his plate.

I threw my fork down. "So help me God, if I ever run into him, he's not going to get the chance to kill me first. I'll have him crying for mercy."

Draco looked alarmed at my ceaseless anger. "Sienna, calm down, it's not going to happen. I swear."

I looked at him, the fire in my eyes burning a hole through him.

"It bloody well won't. But if it does, there won't be anything left for them to bury."

Angelo could be a sick bastard and threaten me all he wanted, and he could have his little temper tantrums, but there was no one else in the world who could get more pissed than me. And when I did, he wouldn't know what fucking hit him.

* * *

**A.N. So, that's the first few chappies of this fic! How do you all like it so far? I figured with my other fic, "Come What May" and how dark it was, I needed something to lighten the mood a bit. But these aren't my only fics. Go check out "My Father" for some more of my stuff.**

**Also, at this point, I'm not exactly sure what to do next. Any ideas from you guys would be appreciated. I'm suffering from writers block at the moment, and I could really use all your help. Anyways, happy reading all!**

**Serpent**


	5. Chapter Five: Rage and Consequences

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **Sorry about that short little wait for this chappie, people. I was suffering from hardcore writer's block, and it was killing me. But, thankfully, I smashed it to bits and here is the new chapter. Oh, and as before, the poem/lyrics in this chapter are mine, and mine only. Steal them and die, as was the warning last time. Well, carry on. . .

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Five: **Rage and Consequences

**Sienna's POV**

Thankfully, it was Saturday, which meant that I had no classes to attend. So I did the only thing that made sense for me to do in my incredibly pissed off state of mind. I made an escape to the Room of Requirement to dance.

When I was angry, my best moves would come out. Stuff that I continually kept messing up would be ten times easier for me to do when I was angry. It was as though I was proving to myself, in some odd savage triumph, that I could do it when I put my mind to it.

When I reached the Room, I all but slammed the door behind me. Hearing the crash as it latched made me slightly satisfied, though not nearly as satisfied as I was imagining that Angelo's head was being smashed in between the door and its frame.

I ripped off my regular clothes and threw my dancing clothes on. Digging through the armoire, I found my salsa shoes and savagely laced them up, ignoring the slight pains that signaled they were a tad too tight.

I stood up and stared at myself in the mirrors. What I saw was an extravagantly pissed off Italian teen. My hair was literally crackling with angry electricity, my eyes were practically red with rage, and my chest was heaving with emotion.

I walked straight up to the mirror, examining my rage. I pointed a finger straight out to my reflection.

"_Lei non va prendere preso. Lei va prevalere sopra la tirannia. Se lei fa non, lei è una ragazza debole,, vigliacca, stupida che non ha imparato niente da sua madre. Non niente sé sarà sacrificata per._ (You are not going to get caught. You are going to prevail over the tyranny. If you don't, you are a weak, cowardly, foolish girl who learned nothing from your mother. She will have sacrificed herself for nothing.)"

The thought of me failing myself and my mother having sacrificed herself for nothing, if anything, made me more vengeful. Angelo thought he could scare me.

"_Indovina ciò che, l'amico? Lei non può spaventarme. Non sono debole. Ho il mio temperamento del padre. Orinarme via da ancora e lei dovrà perseverare la rabbia di Palmero famosa._ (Guess what, pal? You can't scare me. I am not weak. I have my father's temper. Piss me off again and you shall have to endure the famous Palmero rage.)"

With my blood boiling, I snapped my fingers, and instantly, a fast-paced, hard salsa beat sprang to life. Walking to the middle of the room, I held myself at attention, waiting for my cue.

Without warning, I stepped into the music. I felt my anger come out in my steps, which were quick, deliberate, and cut quickly.

"Step. . .two, three, four. . .step. . .two, three, four. . .spin. . .two, three, four. . ." I muttered to myself, feeling my rage and adrenaline pound through my veins.

I wouldn't have been surprised to look at the floor and find indentations from my heels marking the wood. What can I say? Don't piss off an Italian.

Interestingly enough, as I danced, words coursed through my head. The formations of what was promising to be a very angry, and very blunt song written by yours truly.

After dancing through three consecutive salsa's, I decided, just to prove to myself that I could give a damn about what Angelo and my father said, that I would go through my hip hop moves.

Again, just to be difficult, but also to practice.

When all is said and done, I'm going to need hardcore therapy. Badly.

I was pushing myself to the limit. I could feel the old wound in my back start to throb, but I refused to quit. I was being ridiculous, as I knew perfectly well what the doctor had said about gunshot wounds and how ridiculously long they could take to heal, but I was past caring about anything I did.

Just a little more, Sienna, you can do it, don't quit now. . .

It gave another painful twinge. I refused to give up.

Spin. . .spin. . .drop to hands. . .spin. . .jump to feet. . .lean waaaaaaay back. . .

As I was leaning, I felt something in my back pop.

I dropped instantly.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to figure out what it was that popped, and why it was causing me so much pain.

"_La maniera di andare, l'idiota. Lei ha la serie probabilmente giusta te stesso sostiene pochi mesi a causa della sua collera maledetta. Lei non potrebbe cessare appena quando lei ha saputo che diventava troppo, la potrebbe? E, lei è su qui, da sé, senza nessuno trovarla. E Draco sa probabilmente migliore di infastidirla quando lei è via orinato. Non te stesso avrebbe potuto si prendere in una situazione migliore, la potrebbe?_ (Way to go, idiot. You've probably just set yourself back another few months because of your damn anger. You just couldn't quit when you knew it was becoming too much, could you? And, you're up here, by yourself, without anyone to find you. And Draco probably knows better than to bother you when you're pissed off. Couldn't have gotten yourself in a better situation, could you?)"

I tried to sit up cautiously, all the while berating myself for being so goddamn stupid. I got myself raised up on my elbows before I fell back again, unable to move much more.

_Il figlio di una femmina._ (Son of a bitch.)

I laid there, contemplating the ceiling, trying to figure a way out of this mess. I really, _really_ need to learn to control my anger. Somebody enroll me in some anger management classes, ASAP.

I looked over to where my wand was laying, a good twenty feet away. Knowing better than to attempt to crawl over to it (that was a hell of a long way to crawl in my present condition, thank you very much), I decided to try Summoning it using the ever-difficult silent incantation.

I tried so hard, my face was turning purple.

Okay, bad idea. Don't want to pop something else back there, dammit.

I was seriously starting to panic. How was I going to get myself out of here?

I tried thinking of a way to use the room to my advantage. _Pensare, lei l'idiota. _(Think, you moron.)

Okay. . .okay. . .remain calm, Sienna. Just use that damn cool head that you inherited from your mother. . .

_I need my wand now, dammit, Room! Get me to my wand, or get my wand to me!_

I felt myself miraculously sliding across the floor, as though being pulled by some invisible force.

_Ringraziare Dio._ (Thank God.)

Okay, Patronus time. Send a Patronus to Draco, and he can come get me. Good thinking!

I muttered the spell, and instantly, my Patronus, a large wolf, erupted from my wand and shot away and out of the room.

I laid there quietly for the next few minutes, waiting for Draco to come. I was now not only angry at Angelo and my father and everyone else who wanted to kill me, but I was also exceptionally pissed at myself for ignoring my body when it was telling me to quit.

The door burst open before I could begin silently berating myself again. Draco came tearing into the room, panting.

"Sienna! What the hell. . .?"

I lifted my head a little. "I think I popped something in the old wound. I can't move. And it hurts like hell."

He came over to me and knelt down. "What did you do?"

I looked rather sheepish. "Well, you know what I get like when I'm, erm, _angry._"

He sighed. "You were dancing your rage out, weren't you?"

I gave a tiny nod.

"Believe me, I speak from experience here. It's not a good idea. I once broke my ankle when I got pissed at my father and tried to dance out my feelings." (**A.N. Draco dancing his anger out? Giggle.)**

I smirked slightly, imagining him trying to dance his rage out. I could picture it vividly.

"What are you smirking at, Sienna? I could just leave you here, you know."

The smirk instantly vanished. "Can't you just heal it yourself? I don't want to go to the hospital wing."

He shook his head. "Oh, believe me, you're going. I'm not taking any chances. Besides, if something popped, it could be bad, and I don't want to try and heal it and have it backfire on me. And anyways, don't you want to know what it was that popped?"

"Not really. I've had enough with this damn wound to last me a lifetime. _Sto per andare matto da colpire leggermente su con questo. _(I'm about to go crazy from putting up with it.)"

He shook his head, but suddenly scooped me up in his arms. "You're going. End of story. And I don't care if you're about to go crazy from putting up with it. If you'd learn to listen to your body, you'd know your limits."

I looked momentarily shocked. "You understood what I said?"

He stopped. He looked rather surprised at himself, but then, he looked rather pleased with himself, and that characteristic smirk crossed his face.

"You goddamn right I did."

I laughed, but instantly regretted it.

"Ow. Yeah, okay, I get the lecture bit here, now just take me somewhere so I can get this damn thing healed. It's kinda painful."

He gave me a look, but carried me without a word all the way to the hospital wing.

The look Madam Pomfrey gave me pretty much killed off the idea that I was going to get out of here before tomorrow. She was not pleased at all. I had to listen to her lecture me the whole time she was examining me, and again when she came back from her storage cabinet with a beakerful of some nasty looking orange potion that was smoking slightly.

"Erm, Madam? I kind of get the point," I spoke up as I took the beaker from her.

Draco choked back a laugh.

She looked at me rather severely. "I had better not see you in here again after this! I would expect you, Mr. Malfoy, to keep an eye on this one here and tell her when to call it a day. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco looked up, rather indignant, at his name, but otherwise nodded.

"Drink that right now, Miss Palmero. And I'll have you know you're staying overnight, or until I'm satisfied."

I grumbled under my breath. "_Vecchio pipistrello miserabile. _(Miserable old bat.)"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Madam. Nothing at all," I said with a cheerful grin.

She cast me a rather suspicious look as she retreated to her office, satisfied that I had finally drank that horrid potion.

Draco cast the office a wary look before turning to me. "What did you say?"

I too looked at the office door. "I called her a miserable old bat."

He snickered. "Anything I can get you from your dorm for the night?"

I remembered my earlier thoughts as the words coursed through the head.

"Yeah," I said, "can you get me my poetry book? It's underneath my night stand. And a quill and some ink?"

He nodded. "Definitely. Anything else?"

I shook my head. "Nothing else. I have no interest in anything else. Thank you, though."

He grinned. "Not a problem. And I swear I won't read anything in it."

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, just to be coy. "I had no thoughts, otherwise. I happen to trust you."

His smile froze on his face when I looked at him that way. It was rather entertaining.

_Adolescente sciocco corneo._ (Silly horny teenager.)

I patted his hand, which was resting on my bed. "_Il Draco, Draco, lei me delude. Ho intrattenuto effettivamente il ha pensato che lei era diverso da quegli idioti che ha pensato soltanto con i loro ansiti. Come orribilmente lei me delude. _(Draco, Draco, you disappoint me. I actually entertained the thought that you were different from those idiots who only thought with their pants. How horribly you disappoint me.)"

At this point, he was looked rather peaked. He figured I was whispering dirty things to him in Italian. Hmmm, at one point, I might have actually entertained the thought, but right now, I was just having fun tormenting him with my foreign words and coy looks.

Yep, definitely going to need therapy. See what you've done to me, Father? I cannot seem to leave innocent little boys like Draco alone. You've screwed me up royally.

Then, I snorted. Innocent little boys like Draco? Even I had heard the stories about him. And from what was told to me, he was as far from innocent as they could be.

The rather unappealing snort from my nose caused Draco to emerge from his reverie. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just get my book for me, please."

He sprang to attention. "Yes, ma'am."

I flashed my most dazzling smile. "Thank you, Draco."

He was looking rather floored as he walked out of the hospital wing.

Damn, I'm good. And rather messed up.

He returned ten minutes later with the sacred book and a quill and some ink. I was very happy to have the book back into my hands; it wasn't that I didn't trust Draco, as I definitely mentioned earlier that I did, but it was more the fact that it wasn't in my hands that made me paranoid. I mean, my thoughts and emotions, definitely stuff that I didn't want anybody knowing, was in there, for crying out loud.

"_Ringraziarla. _(Thank you.)_"_ I managed out while looking over the book for damage.

He saw me looking it over. "Hey, I thought you trusted me."

"_Faccio. Ma ciò non significa tutti fido di altro. Non mi posso si permettere a. Guardare ciò che è successo tra mio padre e tra Angelo. Ho preso avvitato._ (I do. But that doesn't mean I trust everyone else. I can't afford to. Look what happened between my father and Angelo. I got screwed.)"

I was distracted. Draco realized it, otherwise, he wouldn't have been looking at me the way he was.

"Look, I know you're distracted and everything, but do you mind talking in English please?" he said finally.

I looked up, realizing he was right. "Oops. Sorry."

He sat down. "It's fine. But what's the point of me tutoring you in English?"

I pouted. "Not fair. When I get distracted, I revert back to Italian. Do you blame me? Speaking it all my life, and only using English every now and then doesn't help, you know."

"Touché," he said, grinning.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office then to shoo Draco out.

"Go! She needs her rest if she's to get out of here tomorrow."

He gave her a rather withering look before standing up. "I shall see you tomorrow morning then."

"_Buona notte._ (Good night.)" I called after his retreating back.

He waved in response.

He was hardly out the door when I cracked the book open and found a blank page. As if I had been thinking of what I was going to write forever, the words just flowed from my quill tip. Ten minutes later, I sat back, satisfied with what I had written.

_**Bleed Just a Little More**_

_**Confident and without a doubt**_

_**Words come out**_

_**You don't hardly think of anyone**_

_**It's like ammunition in a gun**_

_**You don't think anyone will hear**_

_**Because you're bold and without fear**_

_**Do you even think before you speak**_

_**To plainly insult us freaks and geeks?**_

_**My first guess would be no**_

_**I can't believe you'd stoop so low**_

_**Just because it makes you feel great**_

_**To hear your words spat like poison and full of hate**_

_**I shouldn't take it to heart**_

_**But my world's coming apart**_

_**Because of you**_

_**And all the things that you do**_

_**Your words cut like a knife**_

_**To try and ruin my life**_

_**And somehow it's you they all adore**_

_**Because you make me bleed just a little more**_

_**The serenity and calm I once had**_

_**It's been shattered and now inside I'm beyond mad**_

_**You put on an act to impress**_

_**While inside my emotions are left in a mess**_

_**My anger's spinning out of control**_

_**If I had it my way you'd be in the ground in a hole**_

_**I'm afraid of this rage**_

_**That's why people like you should be locked in a cage**_

_**So people like me don't hurt people like you**_

_**Because of all the stupid things you do**_

_**I shouldn't take it to heart**_

_**But my world's coming apart**_

_**Because of you**_

_**And all the things that you do**_

_**Your words cut like a knife**_

_**To try and ruin my life**_

_**And somehow it's you they all adore**_

_**Because you make me bleed just a little more**_

_**It comes to no surprise then**_

_**Why all this violence in the world occurs when**_

_**Idiots like you decide to make a change**_

_**It only puts you within hitting range**_

_**Revenge is all too sweet**_

_**When it relieves some of this strangling heat**_

_**So I've made up my mind**_

_**To make your life a living hell**_

_**So you feel what I know all to well**_

_**So I won't take it to heart**_

_**And it won't be my world that's coming apart**_

_**Because I won't listen to you**_

_**And all the things that you do**_

_**I won't get cut by your knife**_

_**Because it'll just ruin YOUR life**_

_**And it won't be you they all adore**_

_**Because I'll be the one making you bleed just a little more**_

Boy do I love my rage side. It's very useful when I'm attempting to express myself rather than throttle someone.

I fell asleep feeling slightly calmer than I had all day, and feeling as though I had accomplished something. My back was no longer hurting, and I could actually move around.

Draco came to get me in the morning, and although Madam Pomfrey was reluctant to let me go, I was allowed to leave on the condition that I was to leave the dancing alone for a few days. Frankly, I thought she was asking for a miracle, but Draco gave me such a look after she told me to lay off it that I was pretty sure I was not going to get away with anything under his watchful eye.

After being so rudely surprised yesterday by Angelo's letter, my life felt like it was somewhat back to normal. I was happy again, and I pushed the letter out of my mind, intent on just staying happy and enjoying school and learning everything I could, in tribute to my mother.

But, as they say, when things are too good to be true, then it's just not true. And I should have seen it coming.


	6. Chapter Six: Set Up

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **Yes, yes, I know, I know. It's been awhile since I've updated. I'm sooooo sorry. I decided I would finish "Come What May" before writing another chapter for this one. So now that it's finished, I've come up with another idea for a fic. Just don't shoot me. I've decided that this fic will become a side fic for me to work on in between working on the newest one. So updates will be pretty far apart. Unless I get some crazy idea for a chapter on a whim. Thanks guys, for coming back and reading. When you're done, go click that little "go" button at the bottom and drop me a line telling me what you think! Thanks a bunch!

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Six: **Set Up

**Sienna's POV**

The next few weeks seemed to blur together, and before I knew it, it was November, and a nasty sort of cold settle around the castle. It was definitely taking some getting used to, as I was so used to Italy's rather mild climate.

After I decided to go check with the nurse to see whether or not I could return to dancing, Draco and I spent most of our free time in between doing homework and going to class in the Room of Requirement. I was now teaching him hip hop, and I can honestly say, I spent more time on the floor laughing at him than I did teaching him. Watching him struggle was ten times better than watching television.

"You can quit laughing any time now, Sienna," he said sourly, watching me roll around on the floor, clutching my sides from laughing so much.

I finally calmed down and rolled over to look at him. He pretended to pout.

"_Te stesso superare, Draco. Lei ha bisogno di illuminare su._ (Get over yourself, Draco. You need to lighten up.)"

He scowled at me. "I have no idea what you just said, but chances are, I'm not gonna like it."

I smiled sweetly at him. "_Lei è tale brontolone! Lei mai può mostrarme un sorriso? Invece di quello smirk? _(You're such a grouch! Can you ever show me a smile? Instead of that smirk?)"

I used simple Italian with him this time, knowing that he would understand me perfectly, and therefore get myself in huge trouble.

Not that I was complaining or anything of that sort. . .

Understanding dawned on his face, and with a growl, he launched himself towards me. I shrieked and rolled over and jumped to my feet, attempting to dodge his attack.

I got two steps in before he grabbed me around the ankles and sent me to the floor. I rolled onto my back, laughing. Slowly, he crawled over me, a predator like look in his eye.

"_Non cosí il digiuno, il mio piccolo italiano dolce._ (Not so fast, my sweet little Italian.)" he said quietly.

Needless to say, I was quite proud of him for speaking a whole sentence in Italian.

Do I need to mention how incredibly sexy it was to find an extremely hot guy hanging over me and practically whispering dirty things to me in Italian?

I didn't think so.

We were practically nose to nose. He was supporting his weight on his hands, nearly laying right on top of me.

No complaints coming from me anytime soon.

I could almost hear his heart beating. I had never been this close to a guy before in my entire life. If I had ever been this close to a guy, the poor boy would have been castrated and shot on sight by either Angelo or my father. Not a pleasant picture, I can assure you.

"_Che l'è che lei vuole, Draco?_ (What is it that you want, Draco?)" I whispered almost seductively.

Hey, just because I was raised to believe that guys were good for nothing except for using their, erm. . .well, you get the picture, well, it didn't mean that I couldn't release some of pent up frustration.

Take that, Angelo. Go screw a donkey.

"_Lei._ (You.)" Draco murmured before firmly attaching himself to my lips.

It was as if I was reborn. The moment his lips touched mine, it was like pure, unadulterated bliss. I definitely never felt this way when Angelo was trying to stuff his tongue as far down my throat as he could. It was as if fireworks were going off in my head. A sudden warmth spread from my fingers down to my toes.

Without thinking on it really, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, if that possible. I mean, after all, it wasn't like he was laying right on top of me.

Oh. Yeah. Right, he was.

He eagerly responded to my touch by running his tongue along my lower lip. I parted for him, and we spent the next few minutes snogging each other senseless.

It felt good not to have to worry about my father or Angelo walking in on this. I would have never been this. . ._free_. . .with my actions.

Not to mention feeling absolutely fantastic about getting my senses snogged right out of me. That was a feeling I was more than eager to get used to.

When we finally parted for some air, we were both grinning quite stupidly. He sat up and pulled me up with him.

"Well, I suppose this night couldn't be called a total waste," he announced after a few moments of silence.

I giggled. "Oh no, I think you've got the hang of those new, erm, moves that I taught you. Wouldn't you say so?"

He gave me a saucy grin. "Quite. Let's go back to the common room, and maybe I can teach you some moves of my own," he whispered this last part in my ear, his breath making me shiver.

I hopped up and followed him eagerly through the chilly halls of the school back down to the common room. Every so often, he would look back at me with that characteristic smirk on his face that I had come to love so much. In return, I would throw him my most mischievous look imaginable.

He literally threw me onto the couch by the fire when we walked in. Normally, I would have been absolutely mortified, seeing's how the common room was almost full, but, I suppose after going so long without the touch of someone who actually showed an interest in me, I was feeling a little deprived, so to speak.

Again, he crawled right on top of me, and neither of us surfaced for quite some time, in spite of all the snickering going on around us. The rest of the common room, and the world, had fallen away, leaving just the two of us snogging happily on one very cozy couch in front of a nice, warm fire.

If this is what heaven is like, then by God, someone shoot my brains out, I want to stay here forever.

This continued for quite some time, that is, until someone came over and rudely tapped me on the shoulder.

Draco broke away and literally snarled at the intruder on our, ahem, bliss. One of our fellow Slytherins looked rather sheepish as he held out an envelope for me.

"You are Sienna Palmero, aren't you?" he asked when I didn't automatically reach out to grab it.

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

I took it and slit it open. I unfolded the letter and began reading with some trepidation, remembering how it went the last time I received a letter from an unknown source.

Draco sat up all the way and ran a hand through his hair, watching me read. My frown became more and more pronounced with each sentence I read. When I finished, I handed it to Draco to read.

He sat back, cross-legged, and handed me the letter back, his frown more evident than mine.

"You have to go back to Italy?"

"It looks like it. Stupid lawyer, he has to make things difficult," I spat, glaring at the name of the lawyer my mother was forced to use to draw up her will, should anything horrible happen to her.

"But, why can't they just send you the papers to sign and then have you send them back? Why do you have to be there? Isn't it not safe for you to go back there, what with that Angelo guy being a complete ass?"

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I would have thought. But apparently, legal matters take greater importance over the value of my life."

"When do you have to go, now?"

I glanced at the letter. "Two days from now. Nothing like giving me a bit more advanced warning. But, apparently, my mother left everything she ever had of her own to me, so I need to go. My mother had many precious things that she held dear, and promised them to me if anything should happen."

I crumpled the letter up and threw it into the fire, watching it curl up into flames. As fast as my euphoria had grown, it instantly vanished. I held my head in my hands.

"I'm going back to Italy," I muttered, realizing what I was saying. "I'm going back to Italy, where Angelo is. And my father. Oh, God."

Draco rubbed my back. "I'll go with you."

I turned my head slightly to look at him out of the corner of my eye. "No."

He looked taken aback. "No?"

"No. You can't go. If Angelo or my father's men were to find you with me, you would be killed without question. I could not live with the fact that I had led you to death. You must stay here."

Draco looked worried. "But, if they wouldn't hesitate to kill me, then what about-?"

"They can't touch me. They need me alive. They would not kill me, at least, not without Angelo or my father approving it first," I snapped bitterly.

"Merlin, what kind of life were you born into?" Draco asked softly, still rubbing my back.

"I was born into hell. I have lived in hell. And I've escaped hell. Now I have to go back. Why must life be so cruel?"

If I had really known how cruel life was going to be, I would have never left Hogwarts, or the safety that Draco offered. But of course, I didn't know, so, as always, I was horribly unprepared for what lay in wait for me in Italy.

&&&

I was very surprised when Dumbledore allowed me to return to Italy by myself. He had questioned me as to whether or not I would feel safe on my own, and I had assured him I would go there only to sign the papers and view what my mother had left me, and then I would return. I hoped it would only take a few hours.

"I have authorized for this Portkey to take you to a discreet location near the office of this lawyer you need to see," Dumbledore explained, holding out a tattered paper bag. "You should have no trouble finding your way from where you land."

"Thank you, sir," I said, taking the bag from him and feeling a jerk somewhere behind my naval.

In a blur of color and shapes and sounds, I felt my feet slam into the ground with a terrifying force. My head felt as though it was reeling. I quick shook it and looked around. I was in a small alleyway, one that was rarely traveled.

I walked out to the main street and breathed in deeply. I was back at home.

All the sights and smells and people reminded me of my past. Memories, good and bad, flooded my brain as I walked the short distance to the lawyer's office.

Once there, I stood outside for a moment, glaring at his sign extending from the building. This man was a complete ass, I knew that much. The few times that I had met him affirmed it. He and my father were a suited match. It disgusted me how much he knew about the family, and how little it seemed I knew. He would bring things up in front of me, just to see my reaction.

To be blunt, I hated him with an undying passion. All he cared about was the money he was getting for his services. And I knew he could give a damn that my mother was dead. He was probably getting a nice fat payoff from my dear father for ridding the family of the damn will for good.

I took a deep breath and walked inside. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside compared to the blazing sunlight outside.

"_Posso aiutarla, caro? _(May I help you, dear?)" the secretary at the desk asked me.

"_Sono qui vedere Sig. Arrichello della mia volontà della madre._ (I'm here to see Mr. Arrichello about my mother's will.)" I replied in my most businesslike manner.

Those years you spent drilling it into my head weren't gone to waste, Father.

"_Immediatamente._ (Right away.)"

She got on her phone and called the man, who presumably was in his office.

"_La vedrà adesso. Andare giustamente su in._ (He'll see you now. Go right in.)"

I hitched my purse higher on my shoulder and boldly walked down the short little hallway to his office door. I knocked three times before getting the invitation inside.

I stepped in quietly and shut the door behind me. The lawyer, Mr. Arrichello, was seated behind his desk, going through some files. He looked up at me and smiled his most charming and obviously fake smile.

"_Sig.ina Palmero! Dunque piacevole per vederla! Tuttavia, potrebbe dico, in circostanze cosí indesiderabili. _(Miss Palmero! So nice to see you! Though, might I say, in such undesirable circumstances.)" He greeted me.

I wanted to wring the man's neck. He was such a phony bastard. Instead, I smiled my most dazzling smile and sat down gracefully in the chair in front of his desk.

"_Ringraziarla per le sue parole gentili. È stato più difficile trattare il mio passare della madre._ (Thank you for your kind words. It has been most difficult to deal with my mother's passing.)" I said with just as fake a tone as he was using.

You had to know how to deal with pricks like these.

"Well, as you know from my letter to you, your mother had written a will, and she left all her most prized possessions in your care. Not all too unusual, as you were her daughter. I trust you are ready to take on the responsibility for these items?" He cut right to the chase.

About time, you goddamn phony bastard.

"I am. Might I see the will, so I know what has been left in my possession?" I asked politely, giving him another phony smile.

"You may," he passed over a sheet of paper.

The list of items was not extensive, yet I knew what most of the items were. Heirlooms from my mother's side of the family, things of hers that she had collected over the years. It caused my heart to clench painfully with loss as some of the items rang a bell as I read them over.

I passed him back the sheet. "So, what do I have to sign? Where are these items located?"

He tucked the sheet away carefully and pulled out a few more. "These are the documents you must sign in order for everything to go accordingly. Once you sign them, we will discuss what happens."

I stifled the growl of impatience I longed to release. "Very well. I shall require the use of a pen."

He passed one over to me, and it took a lot of self control for me to not shove it through his slimy neck.

Anger management, Sienna. Remember what happened the last time you became angry.

I signed the documents quickly, not bothering to read them. I knew what would happen, I had been told of these wills so often over the years, it was hard to forget any of the information.

I handed them and the pen back over to him. He gave me another smile, more like a leer this time, and folded his hands together.

"Now, these items that you mother has left in your possession may still be found at your home. If you wish to see them, I would be more than willing to provide you with an escort to your home," he explained in an oily voice.

"I would like that very much. I wish to take some of the more sensitive items with me."

"You do not plan on staying, then? I had thought that you had returned to Rome for good."

"No, I merely came back to finish off this business and be on my way," I said, thinking of the castle.

"Perhaps once you see these items, you will be persuaded to change your mind," he said quietly, picking up his phone.

He called his secretary. "Please send in the escort for Miss Palmero to return to her home."

He set the phone down and flashed me another grin. I suddenly felt very vulnerable.

The door opened and someone stepped inside the room. Before I could turn around to get a good look, a hand was rested on my shoulder.

"_Ciao, Sienna._ (Hello, Sienna.)" A startlingly familiar voice said dangerously.

I tilted my head up and to the side to look at the person behind me.

My stomach plummeted. I had been set up.

"Angelo!"


	7. Chapter Seven: Stupidity

**Disclaimer:** All things Harry Potter are not mine, though I wish.

**A.N. **Um, hi guys! winces as vegetables are thrown at head I'm sorry! Okay, that last fic that I mentioned in my last update took me a lot longer to finish than I had thought. But now it is finished! So I can finally start updating this again! crickets chirp Oh. . .

right. I figured you guys would be angry. But will this chapter cheer you up? I hope so. Read, and let me know what you think, PLEASE!

**Imperfect**

**Chapter Seven: **Stupidity

**Draco's POV**

I was pacing. Of course I was pacing. I couldn't stop worrying about Sienna from the moment she left the common room. What kind of idiot would let her go back to Italy by herself?

Oh, that's right. Dumbledore did.

"Dammit!" I exclaimed, running my hands through my hair and making it stand on end.

"Keep that up, and Sienna won't have a blonde to return back to the castle to," Blaise remarked without looking up from his book, which he was reading while reclining on the couch near the fire.

I turned and glared at him. "She's in Italy! By herself! Did I not mention that to you?"

Blaise continued reading. "Only about a thousand times. Oh wait, no, that makes about 1, 876 times now."

I threw a pillow at his head. "I don't need your damn sarcasm, Blaise."

"Calm down. She'll be fine. How could she not be fine? Dumbledore will have put something in order to make sure that she's safe. You know how the old man works."

I snorted derisively. "Yeah, and that's why he let her go by herself, right?"

Blaise ran a hand across his stubbly chin, still not looking up from his book. "You told me what she said. If you went, and got caught, you'd be killed. Do you really want that?"

"I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew that I could be there to protect her from them," I muttered darkly.

"I get the feeling she could do a hell of a lot of protecting herself, you know," Blaise observed. "She's feisty as hell. You can't tell me that she couldn't do a fair bit of it herself, can you?"

I threw myself down on the couch beside him, folding my arms across my chest. "That's not the point."

"No, I do believe the point is that you miss your sweet little Italian, and you don't like the idea that she could be out there anywhere without you. Do you?"

I gave him a dirty look. "You're missing the point. I'd feel better knowing that she wasn't alone in Italy. I don't care if it wasn't me that was with her. As long as she had someone with her, I'd feel a whole hell of a lot better about it, that's all."

Blaise smirked. "Okay, mate. It's your story, tell it any way you want."

I socked him in the arm and got up. I needed to find something to do. Anything to keep my mind off Sienna for awhile.

0000

**Sienna's POV**

Angelo grabbed my upper arm in a tight, vice-like grip. "_Bello per vederla ancora, il tesoro._ (Lovely to see you again, darling.)"

"_Mollare di me, lei l'asino._ (Let go of me, you ass.)" I snarled, trying to wrench my arm away from his death grip.

He laughed, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I was mad, but he was beyond mad. He had found me, and I wasn't going to escape so easily this time.

He wrenched on my arm and yanked me out of the chair. I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain as my arm was twisted viciously in its socket. There was no way I was going to let anything show around him. I would not back down, never show the pain that he was causing, and never, _ever_ let him know how much I wanted to kill him.

"I do believe you wanted to return home, darling. Come now, let's go home," he said in an even tone, though he was mocking me.

That evil bastard of a lawyer was still sitting behind his desk, nearly smiling at the scene before him. My hate intensified by about a thousandfold, for both him and Angelo. It was a set up. The whole damn thing was a set up.

And I was royally screwed.

How the hell am I going to get myself out of this one?

I hurled myself at the locked door for the tenth time, not at all surprised that it still would not budge. Angelo had locked me in my old room the moment we arrived at my home. Of course, maybe I shouldn't have tried to claw his eyes on the car ride here.

What did he expect, that I was going to let him just have his way with me in the back of the damn car?

I think not. Stupid bastard got what he deserved.

I slammed my fist into the hard wood door again, achieving nothing except a huge pain that ran up my arm. My bruised arm. You know, the one that Angelo tried to rip from its socket.

I could have sworn I heard a chuckle on the other side of the door. I hissed in rage. Of course he would have someone stand guard outside my room. As if I could possibly think of doing something stupid in here. What did he think, that I was going to just off myself now, so that he couldn't get his digs on the business after all?

What a dumbass.

"Damn you, Angelo!" I yelled in rage. "You're an idiot! I hate you! I won't marry you! I'd rather drown myself in the channels than be your wife! I won't, do you hear me? I won't!"

I seized the nearest thing at hand, at the moment, a lamp, and chucked it into the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash and the pieces went flying everywhere.

"Calm yourself, miss, or I'll be forced to restrain you," came a muffled voice through the door.

"It's my own damn room! I can do whatever I want!" I screamed, and chucked a porcelain figurine at the door, where it shattered into a thousand or so pieces.

"Don't make me get Angelo, you won't like that at all," the man called again.

"He can't scare me!"

Dammit! This whole mess is so infuriating! Locked in my own damn room by a psychotic bag of brawn and testosterone, with no logical sense of brain matter whatsoever! What the hell gives?!

Angelo came into my room, trying his best to look large and intimidating.

"You've resorted to throwing things against the wall like a child?" he sneered, looking at the shattered glass and porcelain everywhere.

"Like I said, it's my room, and I will do whatever the hell I feel like doing with my room. You own nothing here," I spat, walking to my window to have something better to look at other than his face.

"Don't walk away from me, Sienna," he said dangerously.

I whirled around. "I'm not your wife, you can't order me around. And I never will be your wife, and you never will order me around! I am my own person, I will make my own decisions, and I will not allow myself to become your damn servant for the rest of my life!"

He merely looked bored as I yelled at him. "Are you finished having your little temper tantrum?"

"Go to hell, and get out of my room," I snarled, turning away from him and staring unseeingly out my window once more.

A fist hit the wall just behind my head, making me flinch. He flung me around into the wall, and my head collided painfully with the hard surface. I saw stars, but I still managed to glare at Angelo as he towered over me.

"You think you're such a hard ass, don't you? Well guess what, my darling Sienna, you are nothing. You will marry me, you will do as you are told, and I will do whatever the hell I want with you. Am I clear on that?"

"In one ear and out the other, dearest Angelo. When are you going to learn?" I said in a sweetly cold voice. "You can't scare me. I am my father's child, remember? I can be just as big a pain in the ass as he can, and you know it. So it's gonna take a lot worse than this to scare me."

He grabbed my shoulders and rammed me back against the wall again, jarring my entire system and making the old wound twinge dully. Still, I held my ground. I glared at him with all the venom I could possess.

"The idea that you think pain can break me is amusing, Angelo," I said through gritted teeth. "You, clearly, are an idiot."

That's right. Just keep insulting him. See how long it takes until he snaps completely, and tries to kill me.

That will make Father really happy.

"You know, if you keep trying to hurt me, my father will demand to see me at one point, and when he does, and sees the bruises, you are going to be in a shit pot full of trouble, Angelo. He thinks the world of you, but if he sees that you've been touching me in any way, he will cut you from the deal."

Angelo looked slightly taken aback. He hadn't thought of that.

Of course he didn't. When does he ever show any signs of the slightest form of intelligence?

Oh yeah, that's right. Never. What ever was I thinking?

"You idiot, of course you didn't think of that. When do you ever think? You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to seeing my bastard of a father. Then I can show him my bruised arm, and the bruises on my shoulders from you and the forced friendship with the wall. And then we'll see just how happy he is with you after that. Doesn't that sound like fun? I can hardly wait!" I sang sarcastically.

He glared at me for a moment, then with a snarl, slammed his fist into the wall again, leaving a large dent and a few cracks in the drywall. Then he spun around on his heel and left the room, slamming the door and making sure to make an unnecessary amount of noise when he locked the door behind him.

"Have a nice night too, darling!" I called bitterly.

I slid down the length of the wall until I was resting on the floor, my shoulders sagging forward. This was going to be a long, uphill battle from here.

The only question was how the hell I was going to get out of here without getting any more bruises, or worse, a diamond ring on my finger.

0000

**Draco's POV**

It was getting late. Too late, in my opinion. And Sienna still wasn't back. If it was late here, then it was ungodly late in Italy. Or so I thought.

"Look, mate, you're driving me crazy. Why don't you just go ask Dumbledore what's keeping her? Then you'll have something to do," Blaise suggested as I paced in front of the fire.

Which I had been doing for the past hour or so.

"Grand idea," I muttered as I did an about-face and walked purposefully out of the common room.

Five minutes later, I was in front of the door to Dumbledore's office, lifting the griffin knocker and waiting for an invitation inside.

"Enter," came the gentle response.

I strode into the room and perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of the headmaster's desk.

"Sir, Sienna isn't back yet, and I was just wondering, you know, if anything was-"

"Wrong, perhaps?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"Yes, sir. It's late here, so wouldn't it be really late in Italy? Wouldn't she have been back by now? Sir?"

Dumbledore peered at me over the tops of his spectacles. "Draco, you do know that she was going through the estate that her mother left her, correct?"

"Yes, sir, but-"

"Then it would make sense that these things would take time to go through, correct?"

"Yes, sir, but-"

"Perhaps she has rather a large amount of items to go through. Do not worry. She will come back. And when she does, she can tell us what happened while she was away. Rest assured, Draco, I will make sure that she comes back. Perhaps it would be best if you went to bed and let me worry about Miss Palmero's whereabouts."

I got up, irritated, and thinking I just might take matters into my own hands if she didn't show up by tomorrow.

"Yes, sir."

"And Draco?"

I turned to face the old man again, my hand on the doorknob. "Yes, sir?"

"We will find her."

I left without another comment, my stomach twisting in a worried fashion. He made it sound like he knew she was lost or something. That couldn't be good. And if he knew, and wasn't telling me, then I was going to be royally pissed off.

Even more pissed than I already was.

Dammit, Dumbledore! Why couldn't you have sent someone with her in the first place? You should have realized that this could turn out badly.

I kicked the stone wall of the dungeons bitterly, and achieved nothing but an excruciating pain in my toe as a result.

Blaise was still reading on the couch when I came back. He looked up with a raised eyebrow when I came stomping in.

"I guess it's safe to say that you achieved nothing by going to see Dumbledore," he commented.

"Of course. It sounds like Sienna's gone missing in Italy, and he's insisting that she'll return soon. And he said that we'd find her. So that just tells me that he's gone and lost her, and has no idea where the hell she is."

"Damn, mate. That sucks."

I gave a growl of annoyance. "What was your first clue?"

Blaise didn't reply. He knew that was a rhetorical question, and I was in no mood to deal with sarcasm at the moment.

"I'm going to bed," I huffed, and stormed off to the dorm, my blood boiling and my brain seething with worry.

I changed into some pajamas and hopped into bed, yanking the sheets up with more force than necessary and causing the ends to come loose and fly up to my waist.

Swearing under my breath, I burrowed under the sheets and turned over on my side, glaring at the hanging surrounding my bed.

I was going to find her. If I had to go all the way to goddamn Italy, I was going to find her.

So what if there was a risk of getting my ass murdered by a bunch of psychotic _mafiosos_?


End file.
